The Book

It had been so long since I’d had that feeling. You know the one. Where the whisper of new words curve your spine, tapping each vertebrae like melodies on a piano. When each breath pours out a new sentence, effortlessly etched across the page. Your skin tingles with the electricity of the hidden creature, just waiting to charge out into the world.

It had been so very, very long.

Based on my poor rejection of this blog in recent weeks, that might come as a surprise to you. It comes as a surprise to me. When I first moved to Australia, I was determined to treat the blog as less of an after thought, and more of a priority. Where it sat proudly at the top of the list (and hell, there are a ton of lists), rather than meekly fighting for my attention amongst the piles of other responsibilities.

And I still want that. With every thread of my creative spirit, I want that. Back when this blog was (oddly) named Buttercup Belle,  but a mere month or so before my partner ended our 3 year relationship, it guided me back to a more stable way of life. It helped me wade through the mess and inspired me to, once again, put pen to paper.

It gave me the confidence to submit my work to The Huffington Post (and as a result, become a registered writer for them). It opened me up to new circles once I arrived in Italy. It helped me connect with people all over the world.

All in all, it’s been an absolute blessing.

And it will stay a blessing.

But this feeling. This power I have found myself gripping with both hands. It’s down to something else. Something that I have been waiting to hit me for what feels like an eternity.

I have finally started The Book.

The Book I have been terrified to write. The one that asked me to split open my rib cage, piece by piece, so that my heart could spill through the cracks and onto the keyboard.

The Book that talks about it all. The Good, the Bad and the Ugly. Everything in between.

The Book that is for me, first and foremost. Because honestly? I’m under no false pretenses. I find it difficult to believe that anyone out there would be interested in my story… it’s hard enough to accept that people read this blog! And there are no illusions that this tale will change my life through the copies displayed on a store shelf.

What it will do, what I hope it will do, is change my life in the way I view my past. The way I experience my present. The way I plan my future.

And by “announcing” this mini achievement (because I believe that committing yourself to something so personal is an accomplishment in itself), I shall now hold myself accountable for my progress and dedication to the work. It is no longer a secret… I cannot hide behind the dimmed lights and closed doors of my quiet scribblings. I am just over 4,000 words in and softly sinking into chapter after chapter, theme after theme. I am totally absorbed by the path it is taking me down.

There are still some cards I want to keep close to my chest. But what I will say, is The Book travels in between the three major chunks of my life: namely, Cardiff, Italy and Australia. I guess it breaks down into a series of essays, each casting a magnifying glass over the pursuit of happiness and a quest to become my biggest, baddest self. By choosing my own definition. By living freely.

Put simply? It’s something I need to do.

It’s something I want to do.

I am only part way through this journey. But, now, this “project” will join me with every step. Hand in hand we will cross through every new lesson, every new discovery and every new victory.

For the first time, the story feels right. Because it’s my story. And it’s the only one I have to tell. 


4 thoughts on “The Book

  1. Well done and nicely written. As I read, I hear echoes of my current life wash over me in waves – a bit uncomfortable. Also a bit of a wakeup call.
    I’m going to blog about my adventures, I said. I’ll have all this time to work on the book, I thought.
    The life-event big-scale excuses may have some validity, but the result is the same: nothing. Until about 6 months in, starting to work again. Far too slowly to calm my guilt, but apparently even that takes some time to build up speed.
    All the best as you go through this marathon.

    1. Hi Martha – thanks so much for this gorgeous comment.
      It really is so easy to come up with excuses… I know I have done it for such a long time. For some reason, it just feels different this time around? It’s so difficult to explain.
      It’s better to work slowly than not at all. You shouldn’t be so hard on yourself – starting is an achievement in itself!
      Thanks Martha – and you! xo

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